


Wings of Gods and Many Men

by greenpinkroe



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Bois Inc, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angry Toby Smith | Tubbo, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Lonely TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Has a Bad Time, TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Has Wings, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenpinkroe/pseuds/greenpinkroe
Summary: Doomsday took the third life of L'Manburg. The tree was burned. Citizens had turned, tired of the violence the world brought. Yet Tommy had fought so hard for his little corner in this land, and now there rested a crater where his country used to be. It brought so many memories, so much pain. It shot his nerves, it strained his being, stretched his mind as reality forced a home where any form of happiness once laid. Memories go dark as the people around him grew frustrated given their situation, and in a split second decision he makes his choice.Or,Tommy can't help but see patterns in history and decides to run away when his secret his revealed to those he cares the most about.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Dream SMP Ensemble & TommyInnit, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 51
Kudos: 748





	1. Chirp

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! I really wrote this fast huh. This wasn't meant to even be a thing and yet here we are! So for those who do not know typically I add a playlist of songs that I listen to while writing, they are all public on my Youtube! Here's a link to this fics!   
> https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDzCUZqjW2kY1i7f8-WoxaDkR_62QAUet  
> Not too many songs have managed to get on so far, but that will change with time. I also wanted to say that each chapter will be named after the song I listened to the most while creating the chapter, that is unless if the chapter is especially significant to the story and if there is music connections in the work itself. Such as special chapters of this piece will be named after Tommy's disc's. :3 Just thought you should know!

Taking the last breath,

One might only seize.

Taking one last look,

One might only turn.

Facing the biggest problem,

One might only run.

Looking at the face of those you care for most,

One might only isolate themselves.

Protecting yourself,

One might lose the other,

And when protecting the other,

One might lose themselves.

The question of if the end will ever come is contradictory to the meaning of life itself. Given three, you must cherish those with your whole being or you risk everything. To quoth the Raven, something that happens nevermore will never happen.

Such a subtle way of saying that nevermore will only ever imply to itself, because there is nothing that never happens besides nothingness itself. So in a sense everyone would hold dear to those three lives, and yet also be reckless with a lack of restraint that they grant. Everything is contradictory to everything else. Evermore and nevermore will never exist in one world. There is both a continuity and an end at the same time.

The irony has not fallen on me, do not fret.

But how is this important to a story?

It is important to know that something as basic and complex as forever and never does not exist. Just as there is no existence of heroes and villains. For everyone will take a last breath. Everyone will seize. Everyone will lose, just as everyone will win. Everyone is surrounded, just as they are isolated. Just as everyone lives, everyone will die. No matter how many lives you have now, or have started out with. No matter how invincible, or how fragile one can be.

How ironic the universe is. 

Because in a story of life and death. A story of love and war. A story of heroes and villains. There is nothing to exist, but there is plenty to take from it. There is nothing to take from it, just as there is plenty of it to exist.

Now I ask of thee as you continue, remember this is a self induced exile if you will. You will take part in this work if you so wish, or you will drop it off as soon as you can. But if you stay, if you succumb to what I present, I shall ask you to remember this.

Everything is nothing. Nothing is everything.

Heroes can be evil. Villains can be kind.

Pay no attention, nevermore, but stay on your toes, evermore.

The universe does not care if you have an existential crisis. 

For the universe is a funny, fickle thing.

How fun for us all.


	2. Like Real People Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter and this one are technically the same chapter, but I just felt like cutting them up would make it a bit easier format wise. :)

Ash.

It flowed in the air, circulating each breath, moving with each breathless intake, filling the skies as if it were cloudy blue. Ash. Everything was ash. Even after the dust of battle settled, even as those who betrayed them retreated in crumbling victory, even as the withers remained attacking anyone unfortunate enough to be near them, the ash remained thick in the air. It was suffocating. It was as suffocating as the time spent working to reclaim this home as their own. It was as suffocating being thrown out. It was as suffocating as exile.

Yet something about this ash was so much worse. It was worse because it was unrepairable. There was nothing salvageable about this level of suffocation, everything either exploded or was left burned from the fiery rubble. There was no bouncing back from this level of destruction. There was nothing left. Not even the ground it stood upon. Not even the foundation of the country was left alone to stand. Even that had to cave in.

There was a familiarity in standing so high up, staring down at the world below, knowing it would just take him leaning forward enough to fly through his last life. Except instead of staring down to the lava pits of the nether, Tommy stared down to the near bedrock level indent in his country, the hole in his heart. An unfinished symphony that will truly and forever remain unfinished. If only he had managed to take back the one thing that started everything, that if he actually managed to achieve something this symphony that they all started would have lived on in a beautiful melody in the history books of the future. Had Tommy retrieved the rest of his disks he could have enjoyed their music in relief of knowing he had secured everything they had set out to do.

But he didn’t. There was no grand music, no happy ending. Instead the rain poured loudly against his cold form. He couldn’t hear the words of the people around him. Instead his own thoughts corrupted his head. Why. Why did it turn out this way? Why did it happen again? Why couldn’t he have a home? Why? Why did Philza turn a blind eye to him? Why did Techno not see the pain he caused and not feel anything? Why did Dream target everyone instead of him? Why? It should have been him. It should have been him.  _ It should have been you.  _

Tears ran down his face, blending with the rain around him, shaky breath smothered by the rolling thunder. Everything was gone because he wanted to sew up loose ends so badly, “Tommy!” The loud voice of his friend startled him, head quickly snapping to the side as his eyes looked to Tubbo’s. His friends' eyes at least had a slight gleam from the tears in them, Tommy’s just looked dead, “Were you even listening?” He asked, a bit harsher than he should have, but in the moment he couldn’t care. Having just lost everything he worked so hard for had its own effects.

“I,” he stumbled over his words, “I’m sorry. I don’t know, I, I don’t know what just happened.” His voice was low and broken, cracked from the crippling pressure of the world crashing around him. Tubbo seemed just as devastated from the destruction, and yet only found frustration in Tommy's emptiness, “You don’t  _ know  _ what happened? Look around us Tommy! For God's sake we are  _ standing  _ on the machine that blew up L’Manburg! And, and you don’t know what’s happened?” As Tubbo’s voice climbed in volume, his tears only seemed to spill more.

The reaction only crushed Tommy, instinctively he held his arms close as he curled in, trying to force his larger posture into something smaller than his friends, trying to seem less challenging and more apologetic, “I’m, I’m sorry Tubbo.”  _ He hates you _ . Suddenly the blond shook his head, trying to throw out whatever tried whispering to them, “Yeah, well I find that hard to believe right now.”  _ He hates you. _ The voice continued to taunt him, he just tried to ignore it as they stared out over the remains of ash.

Silence overtook the group as they just took everything in, the painstakingly awful sight wrenched their overwhelmed hearts.  _ Why?  _ The world would have been so beautiful had Tommy just given into Dream.  _ Why?  _ The world still would have been here if he just remained with Technoblade.  _ Why?  _ The world would have still been here had he never left Phil’s side all those years ago.  _ Why are you the reason it's gone? _

“Do you guys hear that?” Tommy had blurted out nearly immediately after hearing the voice feeling rattled by it’s existence as he looked to Quackity and Tubbo in hopes of receiving answers. But instead, “Hear what?” He was met with more questions, “Uh, nothing. Sorry. Must have just been my imagination.” Silently he returned to looking out over the gutted corpse of his L’manburg with them.

The ash wasn’t the only thing in the air, but tension was as well. Thick and unwavering, maybe even more suffocating than the ash because it managed to take his own voice from him. Shivering slightly his hands grasped the sides of his clothes, gripping them as his knuckles turned white and nose red from the chilly air. Even though it seemed that the tension would keep him in place, his friend cut though it with a steel dagger, “Why?”  _ Why?  _ The voice whispered back, shadowing Tubbo’s initial question.

“What?” Tommy asked near helplessly, looking at the other with worried eyes and a pit in his stomach, “Why couldn’t you just give into Dream like the rest of us?” The question was cold in tone, but fiery with unkempt and hidden rage. He didn’t know what to say back at first, except stumble over a few syllables and speaking out, “I, I did Tubbo. In, in exile.” An exile he had put him through no less.

“That’s just one time Tommy!”  _ Tommy!  _ The beingless voice echoed back, it startled him. Making him flinch in response. His friend glared at him, Quackity not budging between the two to help either side, because it seemed as though this fight would be far too personal to interject, “To, to you Tubbo! I did it so many times in exile! I listened to him! Gave him my stuff!” He burned it all, “It stopped nothing!” He exclaimed, hoping his friend could consider understanding. Instead his own frustrations were shot and in the moment Tubbo looked like three other people. Each of which has had their own fun destroying their home.

“Yet you continued to anger him! You poked the bear Tommy, are you happy yet?”  _ Happy yet?  _ Tommy's jaw clenched as his eyebrows ticked upwards in response, “Of course I’m not happy with what happened Tubbo, this was never meant to happen!” “Oh of course it was, you know why Tommy?”  _ Tommy.  _ His friend was quick to draw near, pushing his presence closer and faces near. In the moment his friend was stronger than him. Bigger than him. More powerful than him. He was worth something and Tommy, to himself, was insignificant.

“Because  _ your  _ discs were more important than anyone else.” Tubbo muttered in a painfully similar way to how Wilbur would mutter the fact that Tommy would never be president. Would never accomplish anything. It had sent shivers up his spine, and chill down his soul. Something flickered and for a second Tubbo looked as though he was someone else entirely, “They, they were going to finish our symphony!”

“And now there is nothing left! Quite honestly everything here, all the destruction, is unrepairable Tommy! There. Is. Nothing.” Something in the way his friend spoke only made Tommy feel the need to wrap his arms around himself just a bit tighter, taking in the small details of how his friend acted. In his fury he seemed so similar to several other souls who roamed this land. All the others who betrayed them. Was Tubbo going to betray him?  _ They’re all the same.  _

“No they're not.” He mumbled softly to the voice who tried to push even darker thoughts into his already cracked mind, though given that no one else could hear what spoke Tubbo couldn’t help but take offense to the dejected rejection of their reality, “What do you mean no? Look around! Please! For the love of everything holy L’manburg is gone! It’s dust and ash!”

There was a type of desperation in his voice, a strain to his vocal chords, a shake in his left shoulder that rattled his arm, scars from the festival prominent on his being beneath the ripped clothes from the explosions. It was a presentation of vulnerability and Tommy didn’t have it in his heart to argue, but he did try to push back against what his friend thought he was implying, “No, no, no not like that Tubbo. I, I didn’t mean it like what you think.”

“Then what did you mean?” He was aggravated in the most painful way, and Tommy had no means of explaining to him that he heard someone, or something say that they were all the same. That Tubbo was just as bad as the rest of those who betrayed him, who hurt him, when he isn’t. He’s just as hurt as Tommy, and the blond can recognize it, “Tommy.” But with a downcasted glare as the rain poured around them, he couldn’t help but see the small similarities. 

At that moment he didn’t just see Tubbo, but Wilbur too, a leader who lost everything. He saw Techno looking down at him for trying to be light hearted during a tiresome night. Philza looking him in the eye as bombs went off around him, silently denouncing Tommy as his son while taking the side of the man who tormented him. The question of whether his father knew what Dream had done to him was overshadowed by the fact that Tubbo advanced to his friend, who was trembling far harder than what the cold should have caused. His anger mellowing out into concern as his typically chatty friend went radio silent.

Maybe it was because of the buildup, or it was just the way that the way Tubbo moved looked exactly like him for a split second, because for a second Tommy lost his breath when he saw Dream move toward him, TNT in hand, rather than his friend. His mind was quick to take over his thoughts.  _ They’re all the same. Everyone's the same. Trust no one. Why did you get to this point? Get away from him. Save yourself. Use them. Use them. Don’t let him hurt you again. Don’t let them hurt you again. Use them.  _ **_Use them. Fly away._ **

Each voice overlapped with the another, the pressure was far too much for his head, the fog and debris clouded too much of his vision, everything was hazed together in a painful mesh of reality and insanity to blur together and materialize his worst fears in front of him. He was quick to stumble back away from his friend, foot catching on the edge of the platform. He was going to die like this. He couldn’t, he couldn’t die like this he only had one life left. A shout had left Tubbo as he watched his friend fall back off of the obsidian, Quackity trying his best to follow suit and run up to catch him only for both to be thrown back by the sudden gust of wind and rain.

It hurt. Using his wings hurt. He never had the chance to use them before, being such a late bloomer he hid them, never wanting Dream to use them against him. Never wanting his being to be threatened or used for someone else's personal gain. They had only fully grown out in exile so he never had the chance to be taught how to fly, too frightened after Dreams isolated torture to share their existance with anyone. Even his own father. Which subconsciously he was grateful for, given that now Philza had partnered up with Dream and Technoblade to destroy  _ everything.  _

His eyes met Tubbos wide ones. Surprised as he stared up at Tommy, Tommy who now bore large red and white wings. Tommy who stared down at Tubbo, the rain had flattened his hair, small horns barely visible to the other. Both secrets they tried to keep from each other, from everyone. Was it even a secret to anyone else? He was in exile for quite a long time, for all he knew Tubbo changed far more than he could tell now.

The empty pit in his chest was painful as they looked to each other, back screaming in pain as he used too much of his torso rather than his wings themselves, so unused to the sudden use of the appendages they were already tiresome and they only seemed to become heavier as the two stared at him.  _ They’re all the same. _

“No, no they’re not.” He heaved out a soft cry.  _ Wilbur betrayed you, just like Eret did before.  _ “He’s my brother-”  _ Technoblade chose your torturer’s corrupt desires over you.  _ “He’s still my-”  _ Philza never wanted you for a son. Dream found so much joy in your pain.  _ “Shut up!”  _ They’re all the same. Tubbo is just like them.  _ “No he’s not!”  _ He exiled you. He exiled you. He sent you to Dream. He sent you to Technoblade. He’s just as bad. He’s just like them. Just like them. Just like,  _ “Tommy!” His friends' concerned voice cut through the voices desperately trying to get to him, moving forward to reach him, arm extended in hopes of reaching to him, yet it only made Tommy more reactive.

Tension shot up his back as he looked to Tubbo, a soft understanding mutter falling past his lips, “You’re all the same.” Tubbos brows furrowed for a split second more as a tear fell down his cheek, which was suddenly pushed away as Tommy forced his wings to work, sending a gush of wind in his wake as he flew off in a random direction. Leaving Tubbo and Quackity alone together in silence. 

A surprise with a painful realization of what Tommy was doing.

_ “The rules were life and liberty, sometimes property, the right to try to feel good. Her heart is pure, the math checks out, so what’s the move. And why would you do this when I learned my rights from you?” _

The snow was deep and hard to trudge through, how fitting for the white flakes to continue to fall from the sky while on this journey. Having to remind himself again and again that he had to do this, he had to see them, it wasn’t just for him, but for Tommy. Tubbo had to constantly remind himself that if the other had returned anywhere near here these two would be the first to know. Would they even tell him if Tommy has been around? It’s hard to tell right now, but there needed to be some kind of pained hope, holding out for the chance that maybe they had seen him.

The cold nipped at his insides as a heavy shiver was sent through him, the small house and farm in sight. Tubbo had to steel himself as he looked at the building, his hands gripping his forearms and gritting his teeth as if he had something to lose. It had been days since Tommy’s disappearance, days since the destruction that had plagued their former countries land. Days since he sprouted wings and flew off.

Biting his lip he couldn’t help but think,  _ Philza may not be the happiest with us but we’re still his sons. He would never abandon us completely.  _ It was painfully optimistic over something they shouldn’t have to worry about, but here he was, staring at Techno’s home hoping the pair were together still.

As he trudged closer to them thoughts ran rampant in his mind. He hadn’t even known of Tommy’s wings, so does that mean that Philza doesn’t know either? Do they mean anything? If they didn’t then why did he work so hard to keep them hidden? How long has he had them? How does he know how to fly when he’s never seen him practice or try? Shaking his head Tubbo focused on only heading forward, even as the pain and guilt ate him up from the inside out.

All too soon he found himself in front of the door, just staring at the wood in thought. He had walked all this way out here to see them, to ask them, to talk to them, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. With a tight fist he quickly knocked on the door, tension climbing as he waited for any kind of response.

Thuds and footsteps could be heard from within, heavy and slow before the door swung open and Tubbo was met face to face with a thick mask of pig skin resting over a hidden face, only a frown visible. A silence took over the air as they kept their eyes locked on each other before Technoblade spoke up, “Tubbo. Tell me, should I shut the door now, or mock you first?” He questioned, just as teasing as he was serious in his tone.

“This is important, is Phil here too?” A tight thin line kept Techno’s expression neutral as the younger of the two spoke, “Why should I even answer that? Let me guess, another explosion happened in the ruins of L’manburg and you blame us for it?” “No, no, that’s not what happened. Please I just want to speak with you both.” As he spoke a hint of desperation fell into his tone as his head tilted down to the ground, eyes fixated on the floor between them, “You know Mr. Not-So-President, I don’t have to answer to anyone so I can just go now, close the door and leave you alone outside. Or is Tommy hiding in my basement again waiting for-”

“Tommy is missing.” The younger of the two quipped in as an interruption. Another beat passed, and then two, three. Tubbos shoulders were tensed up to his ears, fists clenched tight by his side, pain clear in his turned down expression, “Well it’s Tommy I’m sure he’s fine.” Tubbo only shook his head, mouth opening and closing as he thought of what to say in return to him. Techno would typically be right about that but something felt different about this time, “No, no. This is, it’s weird. Something happened during, during the explosions. He started to talk to himself before telling me and Quackity that we’re all the same. Then he, then he jumped off the obsidian and ran off. We tried to catch up with him but, but we couldn’t . He’s been missing for days and no one has heard anything from him. I came here to see if you or Phil has seen him, but I guess not.”

His voice cracked as his arms shook, Techno seemed to consider the options that were in front of him, trying to decide which course of action to take, Tubbo saw an opening, while the other was heartless he could chose the perfect words to encite enough pity to get a chance to speak to Phil, “Techno, you, you and Phil don’t have to care. You don’t, I promise, but I do. I just, I just want to make sure he’s alive at least.” A quiet pause fell between the two once again, and Tubbo feared that Technoblade may never offer mercy no matter how desperate the circumstances remained. Yet such fear was relieved as the taller man moved to the side and offered Tubbo a way into his house.

At the kind gesture Tubbo couldn’t help but bow his head and let out a soft and breathless, “Thank you.” As he moved inside. As Technoblade closed the door he called out for Philza to come for a moment. Tubbo meanwhile was shaking out the cold air that clinched to his clothes even in a warmed home. The anxiety was fueling him, a beanie so familiar to one of his old friends rested on his head, scared that his small horns would be brought to light to the rest of the server, no matter how “close” he is supposedly with everyone.

Feather light footsteps rung in his ears, as loud of bells larger than the size of himself. Even still he couldn’t lift up his head to look at who it was. He knew who came down, but he didn’t have the strength to look at him, at least not in the eyes. 

“Tubbo.”

“Philza.”

Once again the silence seemed to embrace the trio, the current status between each other was rocky at best, it was more severed, especially since the house arrest, “After everything that had happened I’m surprised to see you again so soon. What kind of issues did you and Tommy create now?” It was a colder question than what he was expecting, but at the same time it didn’t surprise him. Though his reaction to his friend's name seemed to have caused a pained expression that caught the oldest of the three off guard.

“Tommy’s missing.” Philza seemed to straighten immediately, his defensive stance going ramrod straight with worry, before letting out a deep breath, “He’s a dangerous ball of chaos that always manages to get out of whatever situation he’s in, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He always is.” His throat drew taut as Tubbo was quick to retort, “This is different Phil! Something is wrong this time. I just need to know if you’ve seen him, I want to make sure he’s alive.”

“I haven’t seen him since, since doomsday. But he’ll be fine Tubbo, you two have three lives. Just because I only have one doesn’t mean you do as well.” It was a harsh way of attempting to be reassuring when there was clear strain in a relationship, but the issue wasn’t that it was harsh, but instead because it wasn’t true. Ironically it was Technoblade who let out a forced kind of hiss as he looked to Philza, “They didn’t tell you?”

Philza’s expression slowly filled with dread and hinted fear, “What do you mean they didn’t tell me?” He was far quicker to ask, eyes flickering between the two of them, “Tubbo and Tommy both lost a life. Tubbo at the festival and Tommy in the last battle for L’manburg.” Philza’s jaw grit, eyes gleaming with expansive amounts of worry, and suddenly Tubbo was forced to make a choice about what to do. Worry his father enough to practically force him to take action but risk freedoms as a price, or keep to himself and continue on as he had.

His friend's face crossed his mind, smiling, happy, joking, being annoyingly happy and loud, juxtaposed by the pained expression in his eyes as he jumped off the platform.

He refused to let any worry of restraint be the factor of his friends' life.

“We don’t have two lives,” he started, finally turning up to meet Philza’s face, “We both only have one. What Wilbur didn’t tell you is that in the Final Control Room it wasn’t just him, but me and Tommy as well. When I say I’m worried for Tommy, I mean I don’t know how or where he is.” Color had seemed to drain from Philza’s complexion, any facade he wore gone as his face was twisted into one of pure worry. Techno blade seemed to still, a silent understanding that Tubbo fears that what might happen to Tommy while he’s out is less of an if and more of a when.

Yet Tubbo was once again met by stilled silence from both. A silence that had taken his closest friend. Had pushed against his psyche enough to cause him to run away. Yet here stands Philza in that same horrified silence. If only he hadn’t sided with Dream. With Techno. A rage filled him once more, causing his arms to shake as he bared his teeth, “Technoblade always was the favorite.” He mumbled, the other two were about to interject, but Tubbo didn’t offer them the chance to get a word in.

“He always has been! Tommy and I are down to our last life and you didn’t even know!” He cried out, voice shattered and cracking in the moment, “You didn’t even just not know but you two nearly took our lives permanently when you sided with Dream! Do you even know what Dream did to Tommy?” One shared look with his father gave him everything he needed to know, “You don’t. You don’t know Philza. You don’t know of all the pain he brought us. Tommy just wanted those damn discs back that Dream stole from him in the beginning! That’s it! Getting them back would have finished that damn L’manburg symphony!”

Tubbo was shaking, turning his back to him as he glared at the ground, “Tommy is missing, potentially in serious danger and you can’t even say anything. Philza you may be our father, but you were never  _ our  _ dad. Especially when we needed you.” He pushed forward, past Technoblade and towards the door to their home. A home he, as of right now, cannot fathom staying in.

“You’re not telling us everything.” The infamous monotone voice rang out, it only caused him to clench his jaw shut more, brows pulling together as it felt as though the void in his chest grew an inch deeper, “It’s,” he paused, suddenly unsure of what to say, “It’s not my place to speak on behalf what happened. He didn’t even want to let me know.”

He turned his head as his eye could land on the half pig mask, “So what makes you think he would want you to know.” Dead eyes met Techno’s, cold and still in their stare. While Technoblade remained unfazed by the glare, Tubbo surprised himself by being able to maintain it.

Turning back around and walking towards the door he let his last words be, “It wasn’t important anyway. It wasn’t like anything else we did was either.”

As his last words of venom leaked out he had to force himself to continue walking through the snow on his own, leaving the house far behind him. Ignoring his slowly corrupting thoughts as they plagued his mind. All before finally stopping in the middle of a snowy field. Taking in a deep, icy breath, and letting it out with a tremble of his being, tears falling down his face once more as he was forced to remain by himself and wonder.

_ Where are you?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :) Don't forget to leave your thoughts below! :))


	3. Where's My Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I'm back! With another chapter! Also please stay around to look at the end of todays chapter notes! They're really important to me!! ^^  
> The playlist: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDzCUZqjW2kY1i7f8-WoxaDkR_62QAUet

His back hurt.

It felt strained against the wind, each muscle having been pulled taut as he forced himself to go faster with each spike of anxiety that coursed through him. The wind had rushed past his being, cold air cutting through his clothes and pricking his skin with a needle-esqe feeling, each large gust the feathery appendages caused was pushed past him. It was below freezing, and it only made the situation worse as Tommy forced his lithe form across the tundra. The environment only made him go faster, he beat his wings harder, he would rather go dizzy with his lack of air, all because he couldn’t stand to look at the snowy biome, finding far too many similarities with the area of someone he refused to think about.

It was as though his chest ached for more reasons than just the exhaustion his body was being put through, heaving as he desperately breathed in the cold air, which only seemed to stab pin pricks into his lungs, forcing out coughs and making it harder to take in a breath, which only made him heave deeper. It all hurt. Everything hurt, everything felt as though it was being pushed through an icy hell that he wished he would have never had to deal with.

For a moment his eyes blurred and the weight of the world had caused him to unfocus, and for a moment the bliss of involuntary relaxation had clouded over his being. Unfortunately in doing so his body was lowered down closer to the ground without him realizing it, only for reality to crash into him as he flew a bit too close to a spruce tree, his wing catching on the trunk and for a second his hazed mind feared that he heard a cursed crack at the painful collision. He was thrown from the branches in a downward spiral, body twisting in the air before he landed on the offending side.

With a loud cry ringing out from his very being Tommy curled over the snowy land, right wing shielding him from the elements that surrounded him, flowing around the air and steadily growing harsher, with each passing second. The tears filled his eyes as his world had seemed to spin out of control around him. He was in the middle of uncharted territory, the similarities to his home of an old exile rested on his hurt mind. With shaking arms he held onto his head, yelling to the ground as a means of trying to force the pain out of his system. The voices suddenly seemed to take this as a sign to perk up and speak.

_ Walk. Get up. Stand. No. Lay down. Wrap yourself in wings. Warm enough. No. Village. Empty or not. Village has golem. Golem protects. No. Under tree. Away. Village findable. Visible. Find you.  _

Then they had seemed to merge growing more persistent with the volume, the clouded pain in his head grew as they did.

**_Don’t be found. Stay hidden. Bad things will happen. Avoid bad things._ ** _ Go to village. Stay under tree. Go to village to survive. Stay under tree to survive. Survive. You need to survive.  _ **_Survive. This is not your time to die Tommy._ **

“Shut up!” his hoarse voice screeched, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” The tears only fell faster as he screamed out, burdening his eyes with the exhaustion that came with it. For the sake of his sanity the voices had luckily been silenced with his angered pleas, his hands had trembled viciously as he tried to regain control of himself, the cold in his lungs was only making the tremors worse. The freezing got to him in the most painful way, causing him to lean forward to press his forehead to the ground.

His left wing was twitching by itself, the damage feeling almost like it wouldn’t be able to be fixed. The pain was near indescribable, it felt like a stabbing, spider webbing across his body, shooting up through his back. Biting his bottom lip, through teary eyes he turned his head to watch as he carefully moved his wing. Letting out a shaky pained breath Tommy subconsciously recognized it’s unbroken state, silently thankful for the small blessing.

Tucking in his right wing, slowly he rolled onto his back, facing up to the clouded and snowy sky, a distant telling that the sun was already mid-set. The echoes of the voices in his mind played, which would even be the better option? If he stayed where he was there was a less likely chance of him being found, but if he went off to find a village he might find a bit of food to help him heal up, and even better a warmer bed to sleep in rather than the loneliness that was his wings.

Tommys brows pulled together at the thought of them, finding himself so stupid to have revealed them to anyone. They were a secret for so long for a reason and just because he let his emotions get the better of him they now knew. He didn’t want them to know so they didn’t have that power over him. Yet at the same time the expression on Tubbo’s face was fully ingrained into the forefront of his thoughts, yet at the same time corrupted by his own secret, small horns protruding out of his wet flattened hair.

He wasn’t angry at his friend for keeping it from him, but hurt that he didn’t share it with him. Though maybe he didn’t have a good time to tell him either, especially with the echo of Schlatt still being scrubbed off the walls of time. Tubbo had already had such a meek grip on his role as president, to be compared to the former one would have likely torn him up from the inside out and created an even worse emotional situation. Maybe, just maybe, Tubbo thought of the same about Tommy.

Yet before he was able to answer his own thought his whole body shivered uncontrollably in the cold air, accidentally moving his wing which ripped out a pained hiss from him. Concerned mumbles filled his head, this time too jumbled to make out, though one thing was clear, he might not get to a village but he did need some kind of shelter. Even though it pained him to do so he used his arms to push himself up carefully, left wing hanging limply behind him. 

The winds had only seemed to grow harsher in the time he had been fallen over, the snow having been falling harder, but even through his hazy eyes he managed to think he saw an area in front of him where snow turned to water. It was likely incredibly far away, that or his vision was playing a cruel trick on him. His body, not only deciding to plague his mind with useless voices, but also test his psyche to see if he could handle more disappointment. Tommy wasn’t sure if he could, yet at the very least he was the one to say without hope there would be nothing.

So using his own, likely flawed logic he pushed himself towards the direction of the rain, keeping his sights low in case he would be stuck in the snow. Yet he couldn’t help but feel a rise in his broken spirits as the low mumbling voices were silenced by the growing sounds of water. Tommy couldn’t help but move quicker to it, stumbling and in stabbing pain as the shadows grew hundreds of feet tall, tangling together in a nightmarish mess of a being. Being forced to a halt he had to wait as his vision slowly corrected itself as he remained in the snowy terrain, and after a few minutes he felt a spark of joy as he recognized the monster to just be the tall trunks of the jungle trees and the mingling branches that belonged to them.

A deep enough breath left him that he nearly doubled over, a silent relief to be in a much warmer climate and a deeper part of him was happier to be in a place that felt more like home, even if he was alone. Once he straightened himself up, accented by a deep inhale, he moved forward once again to the new biome. His shaken form moving from the snowy and chilled air, or cold rain hitting his skin, and then blessed may be whatever Gods reside out in the world, the warmed water of the rain closer to the trees cascaded down on him. His hair now flattened to the sides of his face, while the water slipped down his arms, soaked through his clothes, and created a discomfort in his wings.

As he passed through the first blockade of trees and rested beneath the large leaves to shield himself from the rain Tommy tried to think of some kind of plan to follow through, at least for the night. He couldn’t hide up in the tops of the trees like his mind had subconsciously hoped for, he couldn’t fly up to them and nestle between the branches to give himself a sense of freedom up in the air. No, instead he was grounded at the roots, enslaved to the bottom, helpless if anything on the ground attacked him.

His eyes snapped open from half open thought to wide panic. He seemed to have lucked out so far with his lack of dangerous mobs, but he knew that his luck wouldn’t last, it never did. Quickly looking through what he had his thoughts collided quick enough for him to start. Cobblestone from the rubble of his home had made it with him, there would be no door considering he didn’t have wood, or the time outside to collect enough to make them, but he could do something better. Things were actually seeming to look up for once, with the base done he made haste to get inside.

Not only was it the cobblestone that had accidentally made it with him, but a few arrows, redstone, some dispensers, levers, along with a few other redstone related items. Then, hopefully with a bit of luck he might be able to form some sort of safety net while he rested through the night. Connecting the redstone felt like a weird hazy memory that didn’t even feel like his own. They didn’t seem like his hands, instead they leaned towards a strange collective of hands, all the while unbeknownst to him words were once again being murmured through his head, mainly to rest, to heal, to regain his strength. He needed his strength.. This time as they flooded his mind he didn’t complain, didn’t fight back against the suggestions, didn’t lash out against them.

He let them guide him through the pain and hazed reality, through the building, the connections, to block out the faces of people he knew and cared for who he left behind, no matter the secrets. He let them guide him until he was laying in the corner, an arrow filled dispenser at the ready should anything try to come and attack him.

While he expected them to come, he wasn’t quite expecting the pile of bones and flesh to be readily waiting for him at the tripwire. It had halfway startled his sleeping form into being fully awake, and was only another sign to go in further to the jungle. To hide further amongst the trees for shelter to a point where there would be no space for the monsters, or people to fit, then to fly up the tree to be out of sight completely. To be so thoroughly isolated that not even the ocelots of the biome would be able to find him.

So further in he went, for days he continued further and further in, tempted in recreating the same fortified structure again and again, going out to collect more supplies for arrows and food, but when he wasn’t doing that he was going further in. Leaving each ruin to itself. To wake up and collect the bones and flesh to figure out what else to do with such items so deep within the trees of a dangerous forest.

And so as the days passed, the moss along the first building he made grew, filling up the cracks and holes of the cobblestone as it had slowly, and yet scarily quickly turned from the first safe haven of a runaway into a mossy ruin. Unknown to him a temple of Gods that he has yet to uncover for himself. 

_ “I got a fear, oh in my blood. She was carried into the clouds, high above. If you’re bled I bleed the same. If you’re scared I’m on my way.” _

The silent air was thick and only ever cracked with each sound step in the snow, the soft crunch both silent and deafening between the pair. With up did knitted eyebrows and a worry regarding fate, it was hard to tell how well worth the trip would be if what was rumored was true, or if speculations of the potential events held more truth to them than they would want to admit to themselves. Yet the search still had to go on, axe in hand, determination set, ready for anything to come to light, but hours into the search with no hope was weighted on the shoulders of those who were so used to standing tall.

“I don’t think we’ll find him here.” It was soft in tone, but confident in its suggestion. He knew what he was talking about when he offered it up, yet it was as if he didn’t want to explain why he knew their journey out would give nothing but broken confidence and an immense failure. It felt almost inevitable, to not be able to escape the failure that awaits. To never find him. To not see him until he wants to be seen. He’s coming into his own, his own instincts and desires. Something this person had to go through themselves as well.

“He wouldn’t want to live somewhere so low. Think about how much he loves his towers, how he likes to be so high up all the time.” A sigh escaped the other half of the duo, “Maybe Philza, but he might feel some weird connection to where he was exiled to. He was terrified of it, but I feel like he would have pushed past that so he could hide in a place no one would think he would be.” Techno bit the inside of his cheek, outwardly looking the same as he always does, “Plus he might like heights but as far as anyone could tell he doesn’t have wings like you Philza. If he ran off scared he wouldn’t be in a place that could cause him more anxiety.”

Philza seemed to deflate at the statement, expression turning even more downtrodden at the facts they knew of right now, “But even you were able to tell that Tubbo was keeping something from us. Said it wasn’t his place to speak because he didn’t even want his closest friend to know. There is a chance he instead flew off rather than ran off.” The silence rang in their ears as the possibility came into light. A very real, very terrifying possibility with devastating and heart shattering implications. Meaning Tommy didn’t trust anyone to know so they likely formed during his exile. That no matter how much time spent together with a carefully curated bond, Tommy never fully trusted Techno.

But not even Tubbo? The idea weighed on his mind even more, and for once the voices didn’t drown out his feelings. They had been oddly quiet as of late and he wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the peace or worried of their absence. He would prefer to outrule the Tommy with wings scenario before worrying about the voices for much longer.

“Philza it’s likely too late for him to develop them, especially in such a short amount of time. Let’s at least rule this out before considering running off to find the jungle just because he  _ might  _ be there. He might be anywhere really, we should check the more obvious places first.” The blond knows that the other would never admit to it, but his care and concern runs deep for Tommy. Just the fact that he had been actively searching for him post disappearance was telling enough. Combing through what he had deemed to be obvious first before going out to explore the parts of the world that have been left undiscovered.

Even still as they walked to the area his son resided during his exile, Philza couldn’t help but feel a subtle shift. As if the universe itself was preparing for something that the world might not be able to handle. Biting into his lip he let out a sigh, “Techno. Are the voices still speaking to you?” He asked simply while recognizing the weight of the implications, “And don’t lie to me. You know I can tell when you’re lying to me.” The silence that followed was enough of an answer, only to be followed by a sigh, “I just, I just fear that my son is a late bloomer and more God than demi unlike Wilbur.”

Technoblade had offered a stiff nod in return, frown plaguing his face as they continued walking, the sour taste in their mouths growing.Which only seemed to jump tenfold as they made it to the home of Tommy’s exile, with no sign of at least recent activity. It had set a depressing tone as they had silently agreed to go off searching separately. Philza had struggled to move forward to begin with but was more steadfast in his pace than Technoblade, who had moved forward first.

Maybe bits and pieces of exile would have been easier to chew on, but the collective was secretly heart shattering to look at. Neither of them had gone up to it, but the makeshift headstone for the boy who lives sat uneasily in the pits of their stomachs. Hard to digest and even harder to just simply look at, especially because they didn’t want to consider the possibility for him now.

Techno had found himself walking through the open makeshift gallery of humiliating portraits and pictures. Something small but enough to cause a downshift in feelings, but one caught his eye. A large framed photo of Tubbo smiling, with the bitter words encasing the photo as a reminder of who had put him there in the first place, even though the manipulation was clear to anyone on the outside looking in. Putting a hand to the edge of the frame he couldn’t help but feel the guilt and pity build up.

He hated the feelings that were emerging. This was all for a boy who had ended up betraying him, turning his back to him, traded him for someone else, but the whispers of how young he was in life only made him feel more guilt for putting a child through such things. He felt guilty, and he himself was considered what finally made Tommy essentially jump off the deep end and run off. Yet he should have been there. He shouldn’t have tried to make an adult out of a boy who had no business dealing with so much violence and war. He knows he would have prefered to never deal with it himself at Tommy’s age. To have been able to be a peaceful farmer. But that never happened, and now here he is silently hoping to himself that he didn’t push a kid to an early grave.

The thought made his heart shake as he turned away from the frame, subconsciously wondering how Tommy was affected by it all when Techno could hardly look at it. Continuing through the other close by builds of the area he could feel himself go thin lipped as he spotted a crater, surrounded by the remains of a wooden wall. Slowly nearing it he looked around, it all seemed old, any markings were practically washed away, and if they weren’t they were at the very least quite obviously reduced. Chipped away by the elements that floated around the entirety of Logstedshire.

With a small sigh he continued on, quickly spotting Phil, his head turned up to look at something in the distance, expression unclear. Technoblade had nearly called out to him, nearly asked what was wrong, what he was looking at. Only to stop a few steps in his track, head moving to look up himself. With slightly widened eyes he started up at the giant, hastily made, meager meter by meter tower of random materials, dirt and hunks of wood. Anything to use to get up  _ higher _ . It made him sick to his stomach to look up to. The implication of how he got down was as lost as the boy himself is.

Philza had moved first, after taking it in longer than his counterpart, his wings had spread expertly before quickly beating them once to push him as far up into the air as possible. Going for the top as fast as his body would let him. Pushing himself until he reached the very empty top. A spike of fear flowed through him, and just as fast he moved along the ground. Using his wings to help him move faster as he inspected the dirt.

Techno’s heart was caught in his throat at the sight. His close friend was looking for any possible remnants of his son, any remains of his that laid scattered about. Any spots or dents in the sand, any fallen items, any small yellow and green bubbles to signal a death and an exchange of enchantment levels. As far as they could tell, there were none. Nothing. No indicator of a death or suicide to be seen around the grounds. 

As he straightened Philza nearly doubled over completely in relief, the bags beneath his eyes seemed to be far larger than they were just a few minutes prior. Looking to Techno with a sad look in his iris, “If, if he died it wasn’t here. Nothing was left.” A shuddered breath left Techno as he looked back to the ground, a silent question of what happened rang through his thoughts. How long ago was this? How bad was exile?  **Why did Dream do this?**

As they kept eye contact, Philza seemed to have an idea, blinking before quickly shooting back up to the top. His eyes following the older man, watching through the eyes of the pig mask another spike of anxiety hit him, causing him to quickly run forward, extending his arms out to reach the other as Philza had then simply jumped. It was hard to see him, harder to know where he’ll land. There’s a small hole filled with just enough water to take any damage from the fall, but he couldn’t tell if the other was going to make it.

Judging by the wind that suddenly pushed him back he wouldn’t have made it without his wings. Gasping for a quick breath, fury filled him as he turned to Philza sharply, “What the hell? You could have died!” The other didn’t seem too fazed by the sudden rush of adrenaline after such an intense fall. Instead he was strangely calm, more exasperated with his declaration versus the sudden shock his body went through, “He has them. He’s just a late bloomer.”

Silence. A shocked stunned silence filled itself between the two of them. Techno in return shook his head quickly, “Phil what are you talking about?” Other questions wanted to flit out of his mouth in question, wanting to know what was rushing through his mind, wanted to call him stupid for risking his only life on a whim.

“Tommy.” “What?” They stared at each other, an air of knowing what he meant was forming, silently both knew what the other knew. What the other thought. Techno knows what Phil meant, and Phil knows that Techno knows what he meant. The two were just wasting time, beating around the bush when they could be looking for Tommy.

“Techno there is no way for him to have made the jump for the water, unless he had wings to push him forward.” Tightening his fist he took in a deep breath, “He, he won’t be anywhere we think he is. Gods, I really should have been able to tell earlier on in his life. He loves his towers, the sky, being up so high.” He shook with slight frustration at how he overlooked such big points of Tommy as a person. As well as the ever growing frustration with himself for acting like such a terrible dad.

A silent promise was said to himself, saying to himself that if he was lucky enough to find Tommy alive his ways as a father would change.

“He’ll likely be in the mountains, maybe a rainforest or the jungle. Gods was I attracted to those when I was developing early on.” Philza was talking quickly, much more hope for his son's current condition, yet something nipped at the back of Techno mind. Or well, nothing did, and that was the issue.

“Phil did you used to have voices in your head as well?” The question had cut off the miniscule molecule of hope Philza had suddenly had, a slow realization dawning on him, “You don’t have them any more. Do you?” With a nod of Techno’s head a deadly understanding formed. Philza's shoulders raised before he took a long stride towards the other, wings spread and ready for flight once he held onto his friend.

“We need to go find everyone.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is mainly some fun information! I am myself a streamer and I would hate to impose myself, especially with all my current streams being fairly lackluster but I do plan on getting a new PC within the next few weeks, and it would mean the world to me if you would follow! I do mini games, a solo world, a very interesting SMP with a little bit of lore sprinkled in if you would like. It's winteris2tired if you're interested. https://www.twitch.tv/winteris2tired  
> Also! Funny story, my English teacher proofread my preface and I feel bad for making him do so, so this is his youtube channel, he makes DnD and Magic The Gathering inspired music and it's really nice to vibe too. :) https://www.youtube.com/user/EXTRON180
> 
> Anyway have a nice night everyone! Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Evelyn, Evelyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay uhhh, I'm really proud of this chapter? Like I feel like this one really just takes the metaphorical cake. I hope you like it!  
> Here's the writing playlist for this fic! https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDzCUZqjW2kY1i7f8-WoxaDkR_62QAUet  
> Hope you enjoy!  
> Also me finally getting back into my normally fairly quick pace for updates, and my usual longer-ish chapters? More likely than you would think. :)

The cold stone in his hand felt comforting with each one he laid out on the ground, forming the familiar building as the sun set off in the West. Tommy has no idea how far in the jungle he is, or how long he took to get here. What he does know is that he’s made at least a dozen of these buildings in the path he’s taken, a few days were used to mine and collect resources but outside of collecting the materials there wasn’t much else he did besides continuing further in or sleeping to help his pained wounds. After so much time had passed he was happy to know that his wing’s ache had dulled, now being able to stretch it out far enough for his feathers to extend past his arms.

After staring down at the base of whatever he was making Tommy put away his materials for the time being, unable to look at the structure. Then he had simply attempted a few experimental beats of his wings to push himself up a few feet into the air, and with a silent cheer for himself he made it in the air with minimal pain. Though there was a minor hiss that left him when there was a slight bit more strain in his wings than what he was expecting, it made the joy fall through to make the moment bittersweet. A deep sigh escaped him as he carefully leaned back and rested himself to look up to the skies above him. A pain had flickered in his chest, but it had no external cause, just the internal need to find solstice in the sky.

An even deeper necessity to be with the people he cared for. To see his friends soft smile that was worn so brightly, his fathers kind face that was worn down with time, his brothers nimbly hands that had always managed to create the perfect tune from his guitar, Technoblades excessive uncaring facade that would crack whenever he offered his cloak to Tommy when the cold grew too much for him, even Ranboo’s calming voice that had delved deeper into an enderman dialect when his emotions ran high. Yet these perfect memories were quickly plagued with the other side of themselves, the ragged reality that was pained to reimagine, that he tried to avoid but his mind refused to let the thoughts leave.

Ranboo’s painfully inexpressive face as he accepted the fall of L’Manburg so easily. The maniac expression that had flushed away with heaving breaths and tremors as a sword went through the stomach of Wilbur’s torso. The once empathetic Phil who held onto his dear son after his death, to the cold smile that he bestowed as he watched the TNT fall on doomsday. The secret soft underside of Technoblade was quickly armored as he laughed out in battle, knowing the extremes to which they went to make the land a home, only to watch it burn into nothing more than a crater into the world.

Then there’s Tubbo. His friend, who stood by him in battle. Tubbo who sat by him as they listened to his discs. Tubbo who was always his rock, the person who always was there to ground him. Tubbo who spied for him. Tubbo who risked his life for him. Tubbo who lost his life for being caught on his side. Tubbo, his close friend also down to his last life. The same Tubbo who exiled him, sending him to an isolated hell, forcing him to cling to Technoblade for support. Hiding his shaking limbs during that time with an obnoxious smile and an overuse of jokes, managing to hide his nightmares from the man who brought them.

The same Tubbo who had attempted to execute the person who took in Tommy. Tubbo who befriended Dream as he mentally tormented him without fear of repercussion. Tubbo, when Tommy faced the biggest loss so far, when he watched the fruits of labor and war spoil in front of them. Watched as it blew up in his face just as so many pieces of armor and weapons he had worked so hard for had been in the past. The vivid memories of the yelling were ingrained into the sides of his skull. But he tried to push away the thoughts, and connections of him and the rest. He was furious in the moment and in just as much pain. Tubbo was angry, but he wasn’t angry at him. He was upset, but he wasn’t upset at him.

But the way he yelled at Tommy only made him curl into his own body, bring his wings around him defensively as he prepared for the expected emotional impact that was going to come hit him without a doubt, the memories had stabbed at his mind, singed the edges with fire. His friend was a constant pillar in his life, and to finally feel the uneven break between them, caused by no one else but themselves. Tommy couldn’t imagine going up to him again to see him face to face. Not anymore at least that is. 

With the metaphorical string cut, he couldn’t help but recognize the manner of which they had their platonic breakup of sorts. Was it even set in stone? Was it even a true sever or were there still threads attached, as they always have been in the past? His thoughts merely continued to crowd his mind. A fight between the idea of Tubbo and himself being completely separated, never to see eye to eye again simply because they wouldn’t be able to push past connections between themselves and the people who did everything in their power to cause anguish.

Even visibly, the horns on his friend's head was a gut churning reminder of their home's dark past, just as his wings were like rubbing salt in an open wound for the present.

He couldn’t tell if he was right and he didn’t want to be able to tell. He wanted to forget about the world around him, wanted to drown out his noisy thoughts with the easy tunes of music. He didn’t want to find himself loathing in the troubles that the universe threw at him. He desperately needed to get his mind off of the setting sun that was his own doom. 

There wasn’t much to do around the very setting a person had no full comprehension of except build or explore. Build. Build, he needed to build a house, and for once a content feeling rested in his chest about where he was. There was no need to go in any further. He was where he needed to be, a soft mumble of the voices echoing in his skull reminded him of how many small sanctions he made on the way up to the point he was at now.

He was finally far enough in that if done right, no one would find him. With a sigh of relief falling past his lips. So carefully unfrulling from his protective fetal position from up in the air he looked to what was originally going to be the base of another one of his tiny buildings.  _ Temples.  _ Temples? Well, he could only assume that they did in fact look like a kind of temple, but that was unimportant in the moment. What was important was the fact that there was no need to make another one.

With a deep breath he turned his attention to the largest tree around him, an involuntary unconscious beacon to his very being. A deep determination festered within. Rubbing his hands together as he looked up to the top of the tree, an honest to god's fall from that height would kill him. So he just wouldn’t fall then. His mind was suddenly wiped of the pain that was the past few months as a giddiness formed within his chest, an excitement growing as well as a hint of nervousness. Finally a slight ray of sunshine ran over his life as he prepared to fly up, hopefully not causing nearly as much pain as his first long flight did. Surely it wouldn’t cause near as much pain, considering how short of a distance it is up to the top.

So with an invigorated motivation, standing up and extending out his wings Tommy took in a deep breath before holding it, and slowly letting it go, then quickly his wings pushed against the air, shooting him up into the sky. Taking in an excited gasp he couldn’t even feel the intense soreness that still rested in the base muscles of his wings. Instead he was so starry eyed at the sight of the jungles canopy that started to become even with his eye level with each push of his wings.

With another beat into the air his breath was caught in his throat as he looked around to the vibrant leaves that now rested beneath his feet, but with the tilt up of his head a smile spread across his face as he realized that he could go up even higher, that he can continue up higher into the free and untouchable air. And so he continued up further, faster, body moving up into the skies until he bursted up past the top of the highest tree around him. A tingle of freedom rested deep within his chest as his eyes glossed over with tears, yet they weren’t tragic. They weren’t plagued and caused by the painful memories that have engraved themselves within the side of his mind these past few days. Instead they were from the overwhelming amount of relief that flooded him.

No longer was he trapped within the confines of an intricate web of manipulation, or bound to the beasts of the world, who no matter how wondrous, brought brutality with them, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. Neither was he bound by the chains of reputation or expected loyalty to a country that died when he last saw it. He wasn’t being held onto by a leash of any friendships. He had lost all ties, and it tasted like a bittersweet victory.

He felt the setting sun’s bright rays lay across his face, letting out the tension in his shoulders he closed his eyes to enjoy the warmth. When it came time to open them again he felt reluctant to do so. Not a bone in his body wanted to open them to see the darkening sky, yet even still when he did his emotions did not fade into nothingness, or fizzled out into a soured feeling.

Looking back down to the tree he planned to take refuge in,a spike of anxiety hit his chest, causing a painful riff, biting down on the tip of his tongue he carefully lowered himself into the thick branches. His limbs felt weak as he pressed down into the bark of the tree and vines. Crawling over to the edge he looked down the side and past the miles of jungle that surrounded. Certainly from this height he could lose his last life if he wasn’t careful enough.

Letting out a shaky breath he pushed himself into a more secure part of the tree, letting his wings wrap around him as a faux blanket all the while as he pushed himself into the bark. Letting out a deep breath he let his eyes close, and for once he was going into a world of fantasy and dreams more calmer than he would come out.

_ “The self is not so weightless nor whole and unbroken. Remember the pact of our youth.” _

The world was strangely cold. Well it’s always been cold, but it’s especially cold right now, it was like needles were pricking his skin and digging into his muscles. Pushing against pressure points and causing pain to shoot through his being. He twitched against the cold stone of the ground. Ground? Why was he on the ground? Forcing his eyes open he took in the environment that he woke up in.

Dread filled his very being as the mismatched yellow and stone walls crowded him, head on a log that was carried from a small isolated Hell, and a cold chill that ripped him apart. It was colder than it was, but he wasn’t focused on the temperature. He was focused on the fact that he had just woken up in the hole of a room beneath Technoblades house. The fire that kept his cabin so cozy remained upstairs, having never followed him below the stone floor.

Looking around his head swam, his clothes were torn to bits, singed from the explosions, and framed his wounds that he was quick to try and recover. The voices that tended to echo in his head suddenly gained momentum as the footsteps above thumped heavily and was quick to diminish the distance between themselves and Tommy. He would only recognize it as the SMP’s most dangerous citizen. The fear was excruciating.

_ Escape. Run. Run away. Kill. Death. Run. Fly. Leave. Leave. Leave. He’s going to hurt you. He’s just like Dream. He’s going to kill Tubbo. Why aren’t you moving? Fly away! Fly away!  _ **_Fly away before you die._ **

Yet he couldn’t. Already he was carting his fingers through his hair, crying out silently as he curled into himself. Tears had already crawled down his face as he heaved out deep breathy silent sobs. He had nowhere to go with frozen legs. His hands slid down from his head, making their way down and across each shoulder to reach around, only for the pained reality to hit as his hands were both met with stilled air.

His back muscles flexed instinctively, looking back to where his wings should be he let out a pained scream, leaning forward he forced his hands further behind himself towards the center of his back. A sharp spark was sent through him as his hands made contact with the bloodied amputated appendage. His screams echoed through in his hand made cave, rocking until his forehead was pressed into the ground. His cries shuddered his body and were caught in his throat.

The footsteps rang louder in his head, so he forced himself to twist his head to look to the ladder. Seeing the thick boots encased by the red cloak take a few steps down he nearly bellowed out another cry. Shaking his head, his eyes were squeezed shut, not wanting to face whatever reality the universe had decided to throw at him, and yet opening his eyes was worse. Because instead of seeing the bottom half of a beast of a man he opened them to a monster among men.

With a yell leaving him, no longer pained and more fearful, he ignored the blossoming world of hurt that was webbing their way across his back as he watched a familiar white mask walk towards him. His hands were quick to push against the ground, scooting him further and further back into a wall, pleas fell past his lips as he watched as Dream pressed towards him “No! No! Please! Please! Go away! I-I-” his voice was caught, unable to say anything else due to the pure panic that flooded him.

He was shaking, trembling violently, and the voices were screaming at him as the man approached.  _ Run. Don’t let him get you. Don’t let him touch you. Don’t let him hurt you. Run. Run.  _ **_Run. Why aren’t you running? You should be running._ ** _ He’s going to kill you. He’s going to hurt you. Don’t let him. Don’t. Don’t.  _ **_Don’t._ ** _ You are in the hole. Leave. Run away. He’s going to kill you. Kill you for good. Permanent. Gone. Forever.  _ **_Run._ **

The voices were once again overwhelming which only made his tremors worse, his breathing became more ragged and his head buzzed as his hands gripped at the strands of his hair.

“Tommy.”

__ His worries froze as the familiar voice rang out. Once so calming. Once so soothing and comforting. But now the sounds of his brother's voice sent chills down his spine. He looked up through the hair that fell in front of his face, only to meet the fully white eyes of Wilbur, but this wasn’t Ghostbur. It was truly his brother, dead yes, but there in front of him.

“Wilbur?” He questioned out, and he was given a sad smile in return, his brother's hand had rested against his shoulder, “Tommy. It’s nice to see you again.” With the gentle words Tommy’s voices seemed to melt away into nothingness, “How, how are you here? Acting as though you’re, you’re alive. Are you, did they, did they get to resurrect you?” The questions poured out from him in a fury of curiosity. Though the shake of his head only caused more confusion for Tommy.

“They didn’t. I don’t want to be, but I’m here. I’m here to help you with somethings you might not want to.” His head suddenly felt fuzzy with confusion at the confession, “That I might not want to do? What does that even mean, wait Wilbur, how are you even here?” The brunette merely shook his head, “That is currently unimportant Tommy. What is important is the fact that you are going to be going through some changes,”

“Oh my God you came all this way to give me a fucking puberty talk, but then you say that what I think is important isn’t. Asshole.” “Tommy.” The voice was stern, with a glare being sent his way, “This is important and I need you to listen because I can tell you this right now, there is going to come along a very serious series of events and you won’t know how to handle it.” In a moment of slight strength Tommy had managed to find his old confidence, “And how do you know I won’t be able to handle it then?” 

“Because I wasn’t able to.” Tommy had blanched at the statement, he didn’t even bother trying to hide it either, “Tommy I let myself fall down into the worst downward spiral. Not only did I not heed my early on warnings, but I didn’t have a mentor at least help me with that I desired, and I think even you could see where that had led us all.” Tommy blinked as the terrifying realizations dawned on him.

“You had, you, you-” He didn’t have the strength to say it, “I went crazy. I blew up L’Manburg and called for so much bloodshed.” The horror shined in Tommy’s eyes, his jaw moved with uncertainty, before words finally flowed out, “I, I don’t want to do that.” It came out as a whisper, unsure and almost pained, “And you won’t have to Tommy. That’s why I’m here.” Wilbur responded, a cold hand slipping away from Tommy’s shoulder, which honestly only made the area feel colder.

“But you are going to have to trust me. For this all to work. For you to be you. To keep all your memories. You are going to have to trust me.” A sad smile spread across his face, “And I know that you’re a little disappointed in your big brother right now. With how we ended things, but I can promise you right now, that you will never have to face that kind of disappointment again. A little trust in me now for a lot of happiness later you know.” He looked and started to move away from the bleeding blond. Already seemingly satisfied with how their interaction went.

“Wait where are you going?” Tommy watched as he moved back towards the ladder, “Wake up Tommy, you have a long week ahead of you.” With a huff Tommy forced himself to his shaking feet, “No, no I have more questions and I know you have the answers to them!” He called out, but it only seemed to cause Wilbur to form a hardened frown, “Wake up Tommy, or you’ll regret it. Don’t make this be the first shared truth between us.”

“I want answers before anything else Wilbur, I just, I want to know what’s going on. Please.” Slowly his brother crumbled before his eyes, dust and ash being mixed with the dark shatters of flesh, “I’ll see you soon Tommy.” The panic that hit his chest was painful, as if his own heart was being ripped out of his chest, but it was quickly replaced with fear as the world around him turned to immortalized chaos. The signs on the walls changed through the endermans written language, the pathway seemed different, the twists and turns of it was narrower and darker, and a button appeared before him.

Upon seeing it, tears flooded his eyes, the pain in his back rose, the voices in his head were suddenly screaming to push the button. Why wasn’t he pushing the button?  _ You should push the button. Push the button and do to them what they all did to you. Push it. Push the button and set off the TNT. Maybe now Dream would like to be his friend? Maybe? _

They were persistent and loud, from his spot he could see a growing shadow of a man from the hallway, who also seemed to have wings.

He knew of this room. Of the room where Wilbur died. Of the room that had all the redstone and TNT set to blow up L’Manburg. Closing his eyes he took in deep breaths, trying to find his way home, and awake as the voices pushed him onto press the button.

Thankfully he wasn’t stupid enough to do so.

_ “Where you go, I’m going. So jump and I’m jumping. Since there is no me without you.” _

He woke up with a gasp, pushing himself upwards into a sitting position, breath trembled as he woke up fully. Looking around himself he took in his surroundings. He seemed to still be where he had fallen asleep, within the confines of branches of the tallest tree he was drawn to. Instinctively his hands flew to his back, hitting against the base of his wings. Relief instantly hit him as he let out a sigh, falling forward into himself as his body buzzed with anxiousness. Pressure built up in his head as he tried to comprehend his dream and what it meant.

Wilbur. He hadn’t seen or dreamt of Wilbur since a few days after he had exploded L’Manburg. While his presence, or lack thereof, had haunted him through exile, through his return, and through his fall, he hadn’t seen him in any form besides Ghostbur. Then for Wilbur to approach him, saying he was going to need to trust him again? It added anxieties that he would rather never have to face again.

Letting out a deep sigh he felt as his back had hit the bark, dulled eyes looking up to the vast clouded sky above him. His own thoughts had continued to plague him. The implication of the dream had there be any kind of credibility behind the words Wilbur spoke. He didn’t know what to believe in the moment, it all felt like too much. Practically he ended up deflating due to his predicament.

_ Find it.  _

Find it? Seems as though the voices that had wormed their way into his head were starting to act up again, though as long as they don’t focus on his current nightmare, they could offer a decent kind of distraction for the day.

_ The book. Find it. Hope is the book. Get the book. _

They were gentle for once, a soft encouragement to find whatever book they wanted. Maybe if he found it he could ignore his responsibilities of his own home, and he could ignore the very present presence in his head. Shutting his eyes he weighed out his thoughts over what he could do. Weighing out the pro’s and con’s of whichever he decides to do. He could build his home, yet the echo of Ghostbur’s advice rang in his head and he didn’t think he could handle the memories. It came down to the question of whether or not he thinks that trying to find the book would be a waste of time.

He feels as though it wouldn’t.

So now he knew what he was going to be doing today. 

_ “When the lights go out, will you take me with you, and carry all this broken bone? Through six years down in crowded rooms, and highways I call home?” _

Quackity felt the pressure in his chest as he looked out to the crater that was created weeks ago, maybe not even that long but it felt like it. Attachment was formed with the land alone, the ghost of an exploded nation he served for through several administrations and aided in the country's rebellions, it haunted him in a strange way. Maybe it was because of people he had connected with, and how they turned out. How he turned out. How the pain of the aftermath seemed to outweigh any kind of pleasant memories he had in between.

Biting the inside of his cheek his brows pulled together in an up turned expression. He had manipulated his situation into his favor, swayed a child president so he could manage to accomplish his goals somehow, and this is how the fruits of any labor turned out. Blown into rubbled smithereens that had become nothingness in the grand scheme of things. After all the abuse he faced, the hurt he endured, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. In what exactly? He wasn’t sure.

Himself? Everyone else? No one? L’Manburg itself for even having the audacity to exist in the first place? He couldn’t pinpoint it. Pressing his lips into a thin line, his train of thought couldn’t help but think back to doomsday. He couldn’t help but imagine the expression that Tommy had on his face as he rested a few feet in the air away from them before he was quick to twist his body and disappear into the rainy abyss in front of them.

He could picture Tubbo’s face so clearly, the shock mixed with mild despair and betrayal. The way he shook as he clenched his fist to his chest, how his tears blended in with the rain that fell down his face, dripping from his damp hair, and falling off of the edges of his horns. Quackity seized up slightly at the memory. While the anxiousness of the implications formed he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Tubbo if his speculations were true.

The sound of careful footsteps sounded off from behind him, slow and quiet against the grass, charred by the remnants of the explosions. Turning his head he wasn’t expecting to be hit with the blunt end of an axe hard enough to be knocked down to his knees. With a hiss and a mumbled, “Fuck.” He held the side of his face as his head whipped to the person who had suddenly attacked him, having no idea who would do so with the pain of reality still being such a sore wound that he stood right next to.

But as soon as he was met with a sharp axe to the center of his face, and his eyes trailed up the arm of who it belonged to Quackity tensed as his eyes went wide. His jaw twitched as he moved to try and speak. To say something, anything really. But when he looked at the cracked mask of a faceless man he had no idea what he could say.

“You’re, Dream you said you weren’t going to be back for a while!” A soft and displeased hum escaped the other, and if he had a face to his name Quackity knew that he wouldn’t look very impressed, “Yeah, yeah I was. But a message just recently got relayed to me.” He spoke in an almost completely monotone voice, head tilted to the side as he stared at the man he pressed the axe against. Meanwhile, Quackity seemed to turn white as the other spoke, dangerous and threatening. 

“Said that something happened between Tubbo and Tommy, and Tommy, well, he ran off huh? Also heard that you were there.” Confusion and a need to stand up for himself fueled him, “Wait, but, but how? Nobody else was there!” He had leaned forward, up towards Dream only for the axe to rest directly on the front of his throat, and something told him that Dream was standing on a mental tightrope, and Quackity shouldn’t test his balancing skills.

“What happened.” Dreams' voice came out coldly, and Quackity only seemed to grow genuinely confused, “You, you already know what happened-” He gasped as the blade's edge dug into his skin, blood pouring from the minor cut, and he could feel as his last life was being threatened. Instinctively he jolted away from the blade, only for his back to fall to the ground, leaving him more vulnerable to the other. As he gasped for air, Dream only seemed to press on, this time resting the large blade over the center of Quackity’s chest.

He started to shake as he looked down to it, before turning his attention back up to the monster in front of him. His breath was coming out almost trembling his entire self, rattling his lungs as he weighed his options. Unfortunately for Tommy, Quackity wanted to live, “He, he flew off. He had some hidden wings and just, he just flew off.” The blade pressed against his front harder, “That’s it! That’s I know that stood out! I promise!”

When the blade wasn’t pulled back he squeezed his eyes shut, mumbling some kind of soft prayer to whatever Gods resided out in the world, hoping that maybe somehow his life would be spared by the person of the SMP who was the most willing to get blood on their hands. Slowly his breathing picked up in pace as he forced his watery eyes open, only to pause as he saw the emptiness before him.

He was the only person around now.

As he thought over the situation his breath hitched. Dream was upset and planning something, that was never a good combination to have. Who could he even go to try and see if he could prevent any more harm coming to those he knows. Well he knows one or two people, but whether they’re willing to help is up in the air. Would it even be worth a shot to try?

There must be something that just telling them could do, even if it’s just back up in the long run, though his own fear ran deep.

Yet it would be best to speak to Philza as Tommy's father, and Technoblade as a close friend of his, to see if they would at least care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm getting really excited to write the next two chapters as the first big event takes place! And maybe a cliffhanger? I never really do those but we'll see! I hope you enjoyed and choose to stick around until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to comment, I really love reading those and they always give me so much joy! I hope you enjoyed, and I also hope you chose to stay!


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